Peace at Last
by nateoconnor97
Summary: Rafe Marujo lives in the not-so-distant future, where the world is to be changed to a Communist like governmental system. There have been both improvements and sacrifices in everyday life, and Rafe, as an author, tries to make amends with the old world.
1. Introduction

Please note that this is a story about how world peace is most easily reached, and does not condone Communism. Communism is merely the apparatus for everlasting peace to be achieved. My inspiration for this piece comes from an essay I wrote for US History 2, in which we had to argue the effectiveness of Woodrow Wilson's 14 Points. Also, point 13 has been edited since it included the name of a friend of mine. Ryan Vandette is an alias. Here's my essay, which, after reading, will give you all you need to know about this futuristic society.

America has long been known to be the first into battle and last to leave. And if not the first and last, then American soldiers are most definitely the fiercest fighting men and women who have been active in a war. The United States has had a part in every war fought in the modern world. From World War 1 up to the War on Terrorism, America has shed blood through it's soldiers on the front lines. Some people, such as the Reservationists in Woodrow Wilson's time, believed that global organizations like the United Nations may become detrimental to the security of the country.

Wilson, in his 14 Points, outlined the need for alliances between nations to be in the "No Man's Land" of politics. He basically stated that, if a country wanted to have an alliance with another, but it also wanted to have an alliance with the first country's enemy, they would have to declare neutrality in the conflict between the two sides, or they'd have to pick a side. Secret alliances can lead to confusion and a feeling of betrayal to other nations in a time of war, and cause things to get mixed up. These hidden treaties, when brought to light, would cause rifts between nations, and may lead to hostilities including bickering, disputes over territories, and war, if necessary.

Wilson also believed that world peace could be achieved by the reduction of nations' armed forces. He thought that, if everyone was to make their armies, navies, etc. smaller, nobody would be able to fight each other. If his wishes were to be fulfilled, however, one nation could say that they are reducing the number of soldiers they have when their army is just as big as it was before. If this were to occur, this one country could easily conquer the rest of the world due to the lack of opposition. Granted, everyone else could join forces against this one rogue country, but nobody would be able to understand their orders, as they would all speak different languages. This would lead to low morale in the armies, and with one very good strategist on the side of the enemy, all the troops would rout at the first sign of battle.

In The Lodge Reservations, Reservation Five is too specific, in my opinion. The Reservation states that the United States has the right to pick a side and fight for that side in the case of a Chino-Japanese war. Why would we only pick a side in the case of a war between China and Japan? If another war was to break out among other nations, Reservation Five would hold no power over the decision Congress would have to make about what side to join, or to stay out of it altogether. The language of the Fifth Reservation is simply not generalised enough for a document of such importance, and should be revised to cover all the other nations in the event of a war.

The United States has multiple documents that amount to little in terms of wars. Instead of these ineffective doctrines and treaties, we should condense everything into one set of guidelines for avoiding a war. Included should be ideals from the Marxist theory that everyone is equal, and shares everything. This would help to avoid greed and a separation between the United States, and a place like Brazil, where the wealthy live in luxury apartments and the poor spend their lives living out of plywood, tin roofed huts. Then, there should be all sorts of checks and balances in place to squelch political corruption and uprisings. Through the Communist way, I believe world peace is most easily achieved, without a terrific loss of life along the way.

My ideas on how to most effectively bring about world peace, in a format that reflects Wilson's fourteen points:

1: Everyone is equal to everyone else, including in such fields as money, social status, and political and social rights. No nation is better than any other, and any and all debts shall be forgotten.

2: All resources belong to the people, for the intended use that will benefit the community.

3: Any man held accountable for his actions shall be punished in a way that will allow for his continuing contribution to society.

4: Every nation with an army shall disband this, and will instead of insisting upon the training of soldiers, educate diplomats.

5: If a nation has a complaint against another nation, the matter shall be brought to the attention of the Public.

6: Any disputes, if deemed appropriate for action, shall be settled in the United Kingdom's World Headquarters for the First Global Court.

7: The First Global Court shall be made up of a jury consisting of no more than 31 and no less than 15 jurors.

8: Any nation with the intention of uprooting the people's Republic shall be sentenced to death, and immediate action shall be taken.

9: Any individual with the intention of uprooting the people's Republic shall be sentenced to death, and immediate action shall be taken.

10: English shall be taken as the Global Standard Language, and no other languages shall be encountered in any meetings of The First Global Court or any other government departments.

11: Any of the previously mentioned Articles can be amended only by a 2/3 vote by the population of the globe.

12: In the event a diplomat from a nation is unable to fulfill his duties, a new one shall be instated in the position.

13: "Ryan Vandette" shall be considered an outlaw and shot on sight.

14: Failure to comply with any of these points shall result in nuclear bombs being dropped on the capital city of the offending nation.


	2. News Flash

CONSTRUCTION OF THE GLOBAL COURT TO BEGIN IN UK, KING ANDREW TO ABDICATE

Rafe puts the issue of _The Providence Journal _back in its place on the stand.

"Hey Rafe, you looking for the next Playboy? I got a copy around here somewhere."

"No thanks, Vin. I gotta run. Keep it together."

Walking away down the sidewalk, Rafe turns the corner, and leaves the crumbling newspaper stand, and its greasy-haired owner, behind. Falling away from the thoughts about his life, Rafe stares blankly into infinity, as his feet continue to scrape across the sidewalk. Shouts of "Watch where you're going," and "Move it, buddy," fill the air as the early morning temperature climbs into the upper 80s. Rafe continues to pound the pavement, and only stops when he opens the door to his office building. I

nside, the marble floors and air conditioning (for which Rafe is thankful) remind Rafe of his childhood, which was spent huddled together with his mother and sister underground, while the Cambodian bombs took the lives of America's fathers, husbands, and brothers.

"Good morning Mr. Marujo. You have a ten-thirty with Joseph Aznar, that guy with the _Times_, a twelve with Kent Stone, and then a one-forty-five with Shelley Cherice from Sedgwick Publishing. Oh, and I got those reservations at Caffe Mediterraneo you asked for."

"Thanks, Emily. Now, make sure I have this, fully reviewed, on my desk by quitting time. It's the most important thing I'd like to worry about today."

"Yes, Mr. Marujo."

Rafe hands his assistant the thick envelope, containing the manuscript for his newest book. In it, Earth has been taken over by a Mafia-like government, and one man's mission decides the fate of the world.

"Oh, and Rafe?"

Rafe turns to face the young woman who managed his days.

"Yeah?"

"Happy anniversary."


	3. Death of a Marriage

To say that Annette and Rafe were having problems was an understatement.

"Hey! I'm just trying to make conversation!"

"Well don't! You're drunk again, and I'm not gonna sit around here listening to your endless complaints!"

"Then you should get off your lazy ass and get a job! Here we are, living in this shitty apartment with me working 14 hours a day, and for what?!"

"Hey, I'm not the problem here! We would have enough money to live in a nicer place, but nearly all your pay goes towards your bar tab!"

"Well you know what, Annette? Screw you! Screw you! Screw me! Hell, screw _everyone_! And with all the deadlines my editors set up, I think I deserve a drink now and then!"

"Yes! _A drink_! _Now and then_! Not 6 shots washed down with a pint and a half! ...I want a divorce."

"What? No, no. Annette, baby. I love you. I hardly think that's grounds for separating."

By now, all the diners in the Caffe Mediterraneo, along with the entire dinner shift, are staring at the couple.

"I'm sorry, Rafe. It's over between us. I'll be at my sister's. Goodbye."

Annette grabs her purse, walks to the door, then takes one last look at her husband.

"Happy anniversary."

And with that, Rafe is left alone at the table. Soon, the familiar restaurant din starts up again, and the drunken and soon-to-be-divorced author rises and exits the Italian bistro.


	4. Drinking Song

On the rain-soaked streets of downtown Providence, a silent figure stumbles through the dark night, again looking for the purple neon sign that shines as a beacon to the miserable.

The heavy wood door swings open, voicing its protests against the patrons who never seem to number any fewer. The Irishman behind the bar looks towards the entrance with a questioning gaze, but sees only a regular contributor to the success of his business.

"What'll it be, Rafe?"

"Hit me up with a double, Jacob. It's been a tough night."

"Aren't they all?"

"Yeah, but this one especially so."

"How come?"

"It's our anniversary, right? We're at Caffe Mediterraneo and Annette starts up again. We get into a huge blowout and everyone's looking at us. That's when Annette tells me she wants a divorce. She's gone to her sister's house for a while."

"Did she say anything about why she wants to separate?"

"She thinks I've got a drinking problem."

"A drinking problem, eh? The only drinking problem around here is when you've got no money left!"

This stirs up a few laughs from customers who've been up _that_ creek without a paddle.

"I've got just the thing to take care of good old Annette."

Jacob takes an assortment of bottles down from the bar, and mixes a drink with the 7 different liquors. Pouring the concoction into a tall glass, Jacob then slaps the intoxicating beverage down in front of Rafe.

"Go ahead, son. It's a new recipe I'm trying out. It's my take on the Corpse Reviver."

Taking up the glass, Rafe takes a giant gulp of the alcohol. The smooth liquid runs down Rafe's throat, burning his esophagus.

"Ugh. This is some good stuff, Jake. What's in it?"

"Oh, just the usual. Some Goldschlager, a couple shot glasses of Everclear, ginger ale, fruit punch, and other, more secret ingredients. Very hush hush stuff."

"Is this the kind of thing that will get the FBI on my ass? 'Cause I really don't need that now."

"Nah. My mixers aren't made with rocket fuel. _Yet_."

Rafe tosses back the rest of his drink, and after asking for another, gets up with a slight sway, and finds his way to the juke box. Rafe drops in a couple quarters and an overplayed country song begins.

The just-ordered cocktail waits back at the bar, and Rafe sits back down, while the deep voiced singer goes on about how he's become a part of a town full of single people after his lover leaves him for some other man.

For another two hours, the patrons either leave or pass out one by one, but Rafe is still at the bar drinking when closing time rolls around.

"Hey, Rafe. Sorry man: I gotta close down. I'm gonna get fined if the cops see come in and see you. Here, let me help you up."

Jacob wraps his thick arm around Rafe's midsection and lifts him to his feet. However, after all the time spent downing Jacob's new mixers, Rafe can't even stand. The drunk man falls, hitting his head on the corner of one of the small tables.

"Oh shite, man. Let's get you home now. Come on, on your feet. There, that's a good lad."

Jacob led his most loyal patron to his car, an old, beat up Corolla. Rafe half walked, half tripped into the passenger seat, with much help from his bartender/caretaker. The door closed with a loud slam, which sent reverberations throughout the entirety of the car. Jacob stuffed himself into the driver seat, put the car in gear, and headed towards Rafe's, now-empty home.


	5. Dazed and Confused

_Ugh my head_.

Rafe's temples pound, as if they are being hit with a hammer. It is 7:44 a.m., yet despite the early hour, the sun streams into the bedroom from between the outdated Venetian blinds hanging at the window.

The alarm clock goes off to signify 7:45, and that only makes Rafe's hangover worse. When Rafe sits up in the king size bed, he can't help but notice a putrid smell.

_Oh God. I've been lying in _that_ all night_?

Rafe pulls the sheets away from the mattress, rolls them, along with the comforter and pillows, into a big ball, and carries them into the hallway.

On his way to the bathroom, he stuffs the ball into the washing machine and presses the "Delay Start" button.

Rafe's foot hits the cold linoleum tiling, then he closes the door and strips naked. He twists the knob and the water flows from the showerhead. The man steps in, and runs the Irish Spring up and down his body, then washes his hair with the bottle of Crew on the corner of the tub. Rafe slowly turns the temperature control over towards the blue line, and feels the chill of the cold rush over him, a welcome feeling in the summer heat.

Clothed only in a towel, Rafe opens the door to the bathroom, releasing the smell of soap to freely waft through the upstairs. Barefoot, he walks past the washer and dryer, past his office, but hesitates at the top of the stairs.

There is a light scent drifting up from the ground floor, one that Rafe smells all the time. So why does it seem so out of place?

_Pancakes_... _I don't know what time she thinks I have to be in by_, _but_...

"Annette! I hope you know I don't have to be at work until 8:30! Annette?"

Rafe hears some metallic clanging, and the aroma of bacon assaults Rafe's nostrils.

Moving one step at a time, Rafe descends the staircase, but misses the third-to-last step. He goes down, and a wave of pain explodes in the writer's back.

A small stream of blood flows from last night's wound on the back of Rafe's head, and his vision flickers. When he falls completely into darkness, Rafe can hear footsteps rushing to his aid. Rafe, instead of concentrating on his injuries, focuses on the voice.

"For Chrissake, Rafe! You've god'da take it easy today. You drank so many of my Corpse Revivers I thought you'd still be sleeping it off on your 44th. God, can you hold your liquor."

_Jacob. He must've brought me home. Again._

"Jake, what're'ya talkin' about? Where's my wife?"

"My drink's that strong, huh? You were at the Mediterraneo with Annette. You guys had a fight and she walked out on you. You told me she was leavin' you."

"Christ, my head."

Rafe sits up with the help of his friend, and props himself against the stairs.

"Just relax a minute. Breathe."

"Help me up."

Jacob offers Rafe his hand, who gladly takes it. It takes all the strength of both men to get the author on his feet, but they do it eventually.

"Where did you say I said she was?"

"I didn't. You said somethin' about her sister's, I think."

"Ugh. Opal's... That's ONE call I don't want to make..."


End file.
